


Of Ducks and Dukes

by AkinoAme



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 22:39:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5683606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkinoAme/pseuds/AkinoAme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days, Ivanova feels like blowing up the station. When Londo attempts to discuss Garibaldi's (second) favorite thing in the universe with her, she feels like starting with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Ducks and Dukes

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god, I'm so sorry. I'm new to the _B5_ fandom, this wonderful show with such deep political intrigue and fascinating characters and beautiful themes and...I give you this. I'm so sorry.

                There were times Ivanova was tempted to take out a Starfury and just blow up the station.

                Not _all_ of the station, mind you. Just a few key areas. Mostly Blue and Green Sectors, and only a few people targeted. Namely pains in her ass.

                A few awkward questions about her humanized body aside, Delenn had never fallen into the category of “pain in the ass.” Sheridan had, on occasion, particularly when he stuck her with some ridiculous duty while he was off doing whatever. That "whatever" usually being some attempt at romancing Kosh.

                Speaking of the Ambassador, he was most certainly on that list at least every other Tuesday. So too were G'Kar (every other Tuesday and every third Friday) and just about all of the League of Non-Aligned Worlds (every day). Particularly the Drazi (repeat: **every day** ).

                But none held so special a place on that list as did Ambassador Londo Mollari as he called out to her at breakfast.

                "Ah! Commander!"

                Oh, sure, Londo was charming and lovable in a way that made you want to go out for a few drinks with him before remembering he probably needed you to pay his tab. In fact, she kind of had to respect the Centauri's tolerance for drink; it was enough to make her Russian ancestors proud. Not that they'd adopt him, mind you—they were sensible enough to avoid him.

                And sensible, the good ambassador was not, since he was approaching her despite her determined attempts to glare the crest of hair off his head.

                "Commander Ivanova, you are a difficult woman to find," he declared.

                "I try to be," she answered easily. "Is there something I can do for you?" All while simultaneously praying that there was not.

                Unfortunately, God was not on her side here, as Londo replied, "I was hoping you could aid me in a little quest. You see, I am searching for a vendor for a particular item..."

                "Whoa, whoa, whoa," she warned, immediately throwing up her hands. "Ambassador, are you seriously asking me for a 'special vendor'?"

                "I promise you, this is all perfectly legal," he insisted.

                "With you, it's _always_ 'perfectly,'" she snarked back. "If you really want a trip to Security that fast, why don't I just ring Garibaldi?"

                "Commander, this is _for_ Mr. Garibaldi!" Londo exclaimed, and she couldn't help but let slip a puzzled look on her face. Mistaking this as an invitation to explain, Londo continued, "It is thanks for him introducing me to a delightful little Earth drama. Perhaps you've heard of it—about a proud young nobleman who is thwarted at every turn by a subversive underground element?"

                Against all common sense, Ivanova found herself admitting, "Maybe if you hum a few bars?"

                "Ha!" Londo laughed, grinning as he pointed at her. "Your Earth humor never ceases to amuse me. I believe it is called The Daffy Duke."

                ...She was right. She hadn't wanted to know. All the same, she dumbly repeated, "The Daffy _Duke_?"

                "I believe there is a difference in pronunciation," he admitted. "Within the program, he was referred to as The Daffy Duck, although that was likely the uneducated underground rebel creature attempting to sound cultured."

                Stop. Blink. Breathe. Attempt to get those brain cells working again before her mouth could...

                "Duke. You think Daffy. Is a Duke."

                Too late.

                "But of course," Londo replied, as if offended that she hadn't thought the same. "His pride and desire for wealth are clearly the marks of nobility, and his peculiar pronunciations are, perhaps, a slight nod that his bloodline has become a little...stagnant, you might say. In fact, the last installment that Mr. Garibaldi showed me revolved entirely around a philosophical dilemma faced by all of the most noble houses—what if, instead of blessing us, the Great Maker is actively working against us? Whether by testing us, or, as with the brilliant allegory of the underground creature, taking the side of our enemies? How, then, can we rise from humiliation and defeat to find ourselves back in his graces?"

                Ivanova waved her hands in front of her face. She didn't want to know any more; this was _way_ more than her sanity could take.

                "What exactly is it that you want?" she asked, in a desperate plea to get off this subject.

                "Well, because Mr. Garibaldi has that terrible affliction of sobriety," he said, clearly depressed that there was someone in the universe who'd elected _not_ to drink themselves into a stupor (which was sounding really good about now, the more she thought about it), "I thought that I might thank him for such an entertaining drama with a small gift. But I cannot find any artifacts of The Daffy Duke in the Zócalo. I had hoped that you might know of a vendor from Earth who might be able to sell one to me."

                "Fine, done," she sighed. "Just never ask me for a favor again."

                Londo beamed. "I knew I could count on you, Commander! When this is through, I will buy you a drink! No, I'll buy you an entire bar!"

                "I could certainly use it," she sighed as he turned and left. If not for the fact that she was both Russian and Jewish, she would lament her terrible luck in the grand scheme of the universe; her heritage meant she just dealt with it.

                "Garibaldi, definitely," she decided. "Boom."


End file.
